


We Kiss the Dusk Goodnight

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Complete, F/M, Loki wins, Mentions of Rape, Prompt Fill, Teenager!Loki, Teenager!Natasha, To be continued . . . eventually, Underage - Freeform, brief descriptions of violence/death, passing reference to torture, rating and archive warning just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being young it was not the first time Loki had traversed to Midgard, but it would be his most memorable.  Never would he forget the night he met Natasha Romanov, a teenager on the run from the Red Room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by DamnitDesiree, who wanted an AU in which a teenage Loki met a teenage Natasha as she tried, unsuccessfully, to escape from the Red Room. This turned out a whole heck of a lot differently than I'd envisioned, but I hope you like it! Again, the rating is there just to be safe as there are passing mentions to torture, rape, and death, as well as quick descriptions of Loki killing others.  
> Title comes from the song "BTSK" by MS MR

Loki had been sneaking down to Midgard for some time now, often when he needed a break from Thor’s idiotic tendencies, his father’s constant ravings about how excellent of a king his eldest son was going to make, or the trivial tauntings of the Warriors Three and Sif.  Somedays he just needed a break from it all, all the pomp and glory of the Aesir, and the way they seemed to hold themselves as though the very rising of the sun and moons depended on them.  Pathetic, all of them.  On Midgard things were so very simple, and though he was not a man yet Loki had become very good at traversing between the two worlds.  This time he’d found a place steeped in winter, the cold wind a welcoming relief from the heat that always seemed to envelop the golden citadel, and as he walked he allowed himself to smile at the way it played through his growing black hair and whipped his black cloak around his body.  It was the dead of night and Loki, tall though he was, was accustomed to fitting into the shadows, so when he caught sight of a young woman, looking younger than he was,  with her arms wrapped around her sides thin, trembling, in the snow he took pause and shadowed himself behind a large oak tree, green eyes watching as the small red head turned back to face the direction she must have just come from.  The poor thing was small and shivering, wearing nothing but scraps and bleeding, it seemed, from between her legs, the red so stark on her skin it looked like fire.  It dipped Loki’s heart in anger and yet before he could say anything there were the cries of dogs and shouts of men coming from the direction she’d stared in.  She shuddered and forced herself to her feet, bare Loki noticed with surprise.  How was she still alive in such cold, harsh conditions?  Without even noticing him she began to run, the limp in her gait doing nothing to slow her down, but it was not enough to keep the dogs from finding her.  The scent of her blood was too strong, and while Loki followed after silently it was not long until the girl was caught.  

“You really think a second escape attempt was a good idea, Natasha?” One of the men growled, his voice ringing through the empty forest.  Natasha.  So the young woman had a name.  

She snarled, brought back into Loki’s view as the man who’d caught her led her by the hair, his hand fisted in her long locks so hard that the Asgardian prince was amazed they hadn’t ripped her hair out yet.  His own eyes narrowed, heart jumping into his throat.  

“Leave me alone!  Let me go!” She shouted, kicking out at him and managing to land her heel into his kneecap.  The man winced and went down, but two more set upon her, releasing the dogs in the process.  Not that they seemed to care, and the beasts knew better than to run too far it seemed.  “I’m not going back--I’d rather die!”

“You’ll be lucky to be dead by the time Ivan’s done with you,” one of the other men snarled, his hand hitting her face hard enough to make her gasp as her head snapped to the side.  

“Enough.”  

Loki wasn’t sure where the strength in his voice had come from, or even when he’d opened his mouth to say something, only that he was stepping towards the now surprised and guarded group.  Natasha’s eyes, deep blue and stormy with fear and anger, snapped to his, her mouth pressed into a hard line.  There was a trail of blood from the already blossoming bruise on her cheek.  It only stiffened Loki’s resolve.  

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”  It was the man Natasha had kicked in the knee that responded first, his eyes narrowed as he pulled out a gun.  Loki stifled the urge to roll his eyes.  Please.  As if mortal weapons could work on him.  When he didn’t answer but kept stepping forward the man sought to test that, firing a warning shot at Loki’s feet.  The bullets bounced off, falling uselessly into the snow.  

The man swore.  “What the fuck are you?” He demanded, and Loki was pleased to hear the fear creeping into his voice, watch it close in over his face.  Good.  He was finally getting some idea of what he was dealing with.  Loki’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk as he kept stepping forward, forcing the man back while his comrades watched.  One of them, the quietest it seemed, rushed to try and stab Loki in the back, the knife thin and glinting as it swung through the air.  The young god flipped him over and threw him into a tree without a second thought, splintering the wood as one of the thicker branches pushed its way through the man’s chest.  His eyes went dark a moment later.  

The man with the gun swore and tried firing more on Loki, but each time the bullets did nothing.  While his attention was focused on his attacker, the man with Natasha in his hands started to run, trying to drag her away while she kicked and screamed.  Loki would have none of that.  He made quick work of the man in front, turning the gun quickly in the man’s hold and squeezing the trigger with the man’s own hand until he was pumped full of lead and fell to the ground.  

The third and final attacker had made it twenty or so yards away with Natasha, the young woman doing everything in her power to keep them from going very far, biting at his hand when he tried to cover her mouth so that her face was streaked with blood as she cried out once more for someone to help.  Within a few strides Loki had caught up and grabbed hold of the wrist that held onto the red head.  She stared up at him, halfway to her knees, as he straightened the hand and slammed his fist through the extended elbow, shattering the bone as it pressed too far in the wrong direction.  The man’s shriek was music to Loki’s ears and his fingers immediately dropped Natasha, who hit the ground with a quiet “Oof.”  Finally, Loki took the man’s head between his hands and twisted, the faint snap of his neck reverberated through Loki’s arms, covering his skin in pleasured goosebumps.  He fell, limp and boneless, to the ground in a heap.  Natasha scooted back on her hands and knees, eyes staring up at Loki as he advaned towards her.  

“Stay away from me!  I never tried to hurt you!” She said, making it sound more like an order as she held up one hand in front of herself.  Not that it would help, and they both knew that, but to ease her mind Loki did stop.  She managed to get to her feet and stare at him, body shivering as she wrapped her arms over her chest to try and preserve some of the heat.  Without saying a word, Loki removed the cloak from his shoulders and offered it to her, his expression apologetic.  He hadn’t meant to scare her.  

Well, maybe a little, but now he didn’t want her to be afraid of him.  He told her so, even allowing a smile to play on his lips as he introduced himself as Loki, of Asgard.  The name seemed to register to Natasha, whose brows furrowed.  

“You’re trying to tell me that you are a god?” She asked, biting the inside of her cheek as though she was trying not to laugh.  

“Can you think of a better explanation why the bullets did not affect me, or why I could toss a man that large without so much as batting an eyelash?” He answered with a question of his own, one eyebrow quirked.  What else could he be?  A slow stain of a blush spread across her cheeks and she shot a small, reserved smile at him.  

“Well, thank you, Loki, son of Odin and of Asgard,” she parroted, pulling the cloak over her shoulders.  Her shivers ceased almost instantly.  “Why are you here?”

“I want to help you.  What is it you are running from, why did those men seek to hurt you?”  And who was Ivan, who had seemed to be at the root of it all.  She explained about the place she’d been trained, the Red Room run by Ivan Petrovich, a monster of a man if Loki had ever heard of one based on Natasha’s description.  He’d raped her, hence the blood between her thighs, and the longer she spoke of him and the horrors she’d endured at his hand, the more Loki’s resolve stiffened.  

He offered her his hand and she looked questioningly at it.  “I’m going to take care of you,” he promised, voice quiet.  “Show me where this Red Room is.”  

 

An hour later the pair watched as the building burned, the flames bathing the training facility in its trademark color.  The blaze had been easy to set, and once they’d located Ivan, Loki had allowed Natasha vengance of her own.  Never before had he seen a woman take to a blade so quickly, cutting through his skin as one might cut through the wrapping of a present, grinning as he screamed and pleaded for her to stop.  Her hands were still soaked in his blood as Loki held onto hers, squeezing it and looking over.  He found that he loved watching her face contort with pleasure as she watched what had once been her home fall victim to the fire, the screams of those trapped a symphony to their ears as they had ensured no one but the innocents, the children and those forced into working there, could escape.  All senior staff and tormentors, the guards and lecherous dancing instructors that had preyed upon Natasha had been collected and stuffed into the first room they’d set aflame, and oh how they cried out for mercy then.  

When the building was reduced to nothing but ash and cinders the sun had already began its ascent to the sky and Natasha, now properly clothed thanks to Loki’s magic, was leading him away, through the forest they’d met.  They’d never let one another go, and as Loki looked over at her once more, took in the way her whole face had lit up and her shoulders had relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted from them, he recalled his previous words to her and vowed to make good on them.  He would take care of her as long as she allowed him to.  Asgard could do without him for all he cared.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No longer a one-shot! Because my mind just won't shut up. Stupid thing.   
> Anyway--I hope you enjoy! Again, many thanks to Desiree for the prompt that inspired this all <3

They walked for some time until they got to the nearest town.  It was small, quaint, but neither of them seemed to attract much attention to Loki’s relief.  He’d asked Natasha what year it was, and she’d told him that it was the late fifties.  The 1950s.  It had been centuries since he’d really mingled with the other humans; when he normally came to Midgard it was to watch the way the sun crested over the snow capped mountains, or to feel the rush of the ocean as it washed over him on the beach.  He looked over at Natasha and smiled at the thought.  They could go there.  They should.  She deserved to be on a beach somewhere, lying carefree and happy in the sun, sipping wine or nibbling at fruit from a tray.  She deserved a charmed life after everything she’d been through.  He could read it in the lines around her eyes, faint but just enough for him to see, and the way she held herself said infinitely more.  She was protective, standing a little closer to him whenever they passed a particularly burly looking man, though she kept her face stoic.  He gave her hand a squeeze, glad now that she’d washed it off by melting snow to get rid of the evidence.  It would have garnered them too much attention.  

Loki bought them a room in a small hotel down the road, a one-bedroom that made the man at the counter give them a wide grin as he passed them their key.  Not for the first time was Loki grateful for the Allspeak that allowed him to understand and converse back in fluent Russian, as though he’d spoken the language all his life.  He hadn’t even noticed it happening at first, if he was honest with himself, though it was the only way he was able to understand Natasha before.  The man behind the counter winked before the pair walked off, making Natasha shudder and Loki wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her closer.  She leaned into his touch as they walked up the stairs towards the third floor.  

The room was small, with the one bed taking up most of the space on the garish blue floor, the walls a hideous pattern of bright blues, deep greens, and a mix of yellow thrown in there.  Natasha seemed to think the same thing, rolling her eyes as she set down the meager bag of things she’d thought to bring with her from the base.  It had fit into a medium sized bag, and she started pulling out clothing of her own, folded small enough to fit within the small confines.  She excused herself to the shower, letting out a murmured noise of discontent as she stepped into the bathroom.  If this room was any indication of what to expect, Loki expected it would be garish.  Whatever the mortals thought they knew about design was entirely wrong.  

While Natasha was gone Loki perched on the armchair in the furthest corner of the room, anticipating this being his spot for the evening.  Not that he minded; it was right that Natasha had the bed.  She needed it more than he did, and he’d slept in much worse conditions.  His eyes looked to the door of the shower and listened hard.  It didn’t seem like she would be out any time soon, and so he closed his eyes and relaxed in the chair, trying to send his magic out, trying to feel out for something else, to see if anyone was tracking them.  He’d done his best to keep his magic minimal, using a simple glamor to change a few scraps of useless paper into money to pay for the room.  Small magic wouldn’t get them noticed, but anything big or extravagant?  It would be what the Allfather and Heimdall would be looking for, and Loki wasn’t ready to go back to Asgard.  Not yet, not until he made good on his word to keep Natasha safe and take care of her.  

He relaxed in his seat when his searches were inconclusive.  It was likely that his absence wasn’t even noticed on Midgard.  He’d been gone for a week in one of the caves far away within the forests of Asgard before they realized he was gone, and even then it was because Thor hadn’t seen him in any of their training sessions, not because he’d missed him.  A week’s head start, at least, would get them far enough he hoped, so long as he was able to keep a low enough profile.  

 

“Natasha?”

“Yes, Loki?” She’d just come out of the shower, hair falling in wet rings down to her shoulder, padding on bare feet back over to the bed.  Her eyes met his, gaze curious and more relaxed than he’d seen her look since he met her.  

“Will our presence here be seen as different?  Considering we are not fully grown, two young people staying without any adults will not garner any extra attention, will it?”  He had no idea what this world’s concepts of propriety were anymore.  When he’d last visited and dealt with the other mortals it had been centuries ago, when they’d still worshipped him as a god, too fearful of the repercussions of spurning his attention to refuse him the proper tribute.  That had been more of Thor’s area of expertise, though, not Loki’s.  If they were going to grovel he wanted it to be out of respect and adoration, not simply out of duty.  

Natasha’s laugh was a warm blanket on a cold night, covering him as she smiled over at where he sat.  “Loki, these are the fifties.  No one cares about anything like propriety any more.”  

She sounded as though she’d lived through more decades than she’d let on and he looked up at her, green eyes curious as he took her in, from the oversized shirt she was wearing to the long pants that fell over her feet, obviously too big for her, as though she was trying to lose herself in her clothing.  “In comparison to what?”

Natasha gave a quiet sigh, pulling the blankets around her slowly.  She took off the top one and threw it to Loki, who caught it with a murmured thanks.  “I’ve lived a lot longer than I look like I have,” she told him.  “In the Red Room they were testing a serum on humans.  A serum to make what are considered super soldiers.  The Americans managed to perfect it, and so the Russians wanted to match them.  I don’t age the same way that normal humans do.  I should be in my twenties,” she admitted with a sigh.  “The older I grow age-wise the slower my body begins to age.  I’ll be sixteen looking for some time.  By the time I hit my middle to late forties, year wise, assuming the serum doesn’t stop working, I’ll have nearly quit aging entirely.  I’ll look like I’m twenty for quite some time.  At least that’s how it’s been with the others that I’ve heard about.  This is just a knock off,” she admitted.  She pulled the blanket she’d kept tight around her, sealing her legs in and cocooning herself in the blankets, as though they were made of steel and would keep her safe.  He didn’t doubt that she felt that way, as though she could keep everything out so long as she was protected from all angles, like the bad in life would simply be repelled by the cover of a blanket; it was a shield against all the evil she’d endured, a way of keeping the good inside and the bad out.  He understood that entirely, having already been halfway through doing the same thing as they were talking.  Great minds and all that, he supposed.  

"Hey, Loki?" The voice sounded from the middle of the blanket cocoon she'd woven for herself, and the top of her head poked out, her eyes locking on his for a moment.

"Yes, Natasha?"

"Thank you."

He smiled and bowed his head, curling his body further as he tried to find the most comfortable position to fall asleep.

He doesn't dream once he's finally asleep, but he could feel Thor reaching out to him, wondering where he is, as the Allfather tried to track him down.  He'd thought he'd had much more time than this--how as it that they'd found out so quickly? He caught a glimpse of his brother's face, riddled with worry and concern, calling out to Loki from the small basin where he, or someone else, was scrying.

 _No_.

He forced himself awake with a start just in time to hear the pounding of footsteps up the stairs. The sound jolted Natasha awake as well, and she looked up towards him. He put a finger to his lips and motioned to the small closet that had been afforded them. Natasha nodded and crept over there with Loki just behind. Except he closed the door on her, leaving it open a crack, as he walked around the room to try and set it right, to make it look like she hadn’t slept there and that only he had.

The knock on the door jolted him upright, coiling his muscles like a spring as he looked at the door.

"Sir?  I know you’re in there.  Open the door, please.”  It was the voice of the man who’d sold he and Natasha the room.  “You and your girlfriend need to get dressed and let us in, sir.”  

“Alright, give me a minute,” he said as he quickly glamored himself into something less conspicuous, modeling it after what he’d seen the others they’d passed wearing.  It was scratchy and uncomfortable but he didn’t know why he’d not thought about it before.  Idiot.  It wasn’t that there were a pair of young adults staying in a room that had alerted them to something different, but Loki himself.  But there wasn’t time to mull over that for very long and, swallowing hard, he crossed over to the room just as he heard the key fit into the lock.  

“I’m coming,” he said, sounding agitated as he closed his hand over the door knob and, after undoing the deadbolt, pulled the it open.  The man from the front desk stared at him, flanked by two men wearing badges that Loki had recognized.  

Shit.  They’d found them.  

The two men from the Red Room pulled out guns without waiting a moment, and while one shot the hotel worker the other pointed the gun at Loki and shot through the door that the prince had just shut.  Natasha was out of her hiding place in a moment, though Loki beckoned her back even as the door flew open.  The guns were pointed at the pair within a moment, and though Loki had nothing to fear his eyes flew to Natasha, trying to figure out how to best handle the situation so that she wasn’t hurt.  There was a chance, now that both men were prepared, that they would shoot her first the moment that Loki made a move, and no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the threat was issued.  Loki held his hands up, raising them to his eye level so that they knew he wasn’t armed, and the one who was closest to him kicked him down and onto his back, the barrel of the gun pressed to his temple.  That might hurt, Loki thought, if the man could pull the trigger fast enough.  His eyes focused, instead, on Natasha, who’d just taken a blow to the face from the butt of the gun.  She bit down on her tongue to stop from making noise, and when she pulls her face back to glare at the man her eyes are pure ice.  Loki watched the man lead her forward by the elbow towards the door, growling that she was going to have a whole hell of a lot more to worry about than just a scratch on her temple, when the god kicked the other man away and latched onto Natasha’s ankle.  He shot the man holding her backwards before he could do much else and the pair of them disappeared from the small hotel.  

Even before he opened his eyes he could hear that there was something very wrong with where they’d ended up.  Above him birds were cawing, calling out to one another in search of food, while the soft roar of water and tang of salt flooded his brain, too.  He felt sand beneath his fingertips as his hands clenched, and when he finally opened his eyes and sat up he was staring out at aquamarine waters and breathing in the hot tropical air around them.  His heavy winter clothing felt too cumbersome, but it wasn’t what worried him the most.  Beside him Natasha was stirring, groaning quietly as one hand moved towards her head.  It was still bleeding, steadily, and as she finally let on how much it had hurt Loki moved closer to take her hand.  He only let himself breathe when she squeezed his back and her eyes opened up to stare at him.  

“Where are we?” She asked, voice hoarse as her eyes moved from his to the beyond-blue sky above them.  Loki swallowed hard.  

“I don’t know.” He said.  But that had been big magic.  Very, very big.  “But we can’t stay here long.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but I had to stop it there otherwise this would be too long, and the next too short. Either way I hope you like it, and it gets you by until the next one! Thanks for reading and commenting <3 Your support is marvelous

They took a moment to regain their bearings, Nat moving her free hand to press it to her temple, groaning when it came away with blood.  Loki sat up slowly, leaning over to look at the cut and see how bad it was.  If he had a needle and thread he could sew it up and clean it but . . . after what he’d just done could he chance it?  Should he?

“Do you feel like you can walk?” He asked, voice quiet as he watched her slowly sit up.  She blinked quickly and nodded her head, asserting that she’d taken worse knocks to the head before.  Not that that made him feel any better.  He quietly cursed himself for not having studied the healing arts, and by gauging his expression she asked him how bad it was.  

“Bad enough that we need to get you a medic,” he murmured as he wiped a bead of blood away so it wouldn’t roll down into her eyes, watching it with some sort of morbid fascination.  The men were lucky that they were far enough away and Loki didn’t want to attract more attention, otherwise he’d have gone back and hung them up by their entrails.  

He was so focused on just how badly he wanted to go back that he completely missed what Natasha was saying, and, a deep flush rising on his cheeks, he had to ask her to repeat it.  She just arched a brow, looking ten years older than she really was.  Well, physically at least.  “Is there any way that you can patch me up?  You can’t, I don’t know, conjure a needle and thread or something?  And some vodka for the pain?” She asked, the latter sounding like it was more of a guilty pleasure than anything else.  He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but, after running it through his mind quickly he nodded and summoned the tools she needed from the town not half a mile away.  They appeared in his hand, and after distinguishing that vodka was a type of strong alcohol he poured a little over the needle before handing it to Nat.  She shook her head and tipped her head back.  “Over the cut too, please.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“Like you sewing me back up won’t?”

He knew he liked her for a reason, and after a brief apology he poured some of the clear liquid over the wound, cleaning in, the blood and liquor mixing in her hair.  They’d have to find somewhere to bathe in town.  She hissed as it stung, but aside from that she stayed dutifully silent as he stitched her up, working as quickly as he possibly could and apologizing all the while.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” she finally said once he’d cut the thread and sat back to inspect his work.  It shouldn’t scar, but he wasn’t focusing on that any more.  

“But--.”

“It’s not your fault.  If anything I should be apologizing for having led them to you.”  She cupped the side of his face and moved her lips to his cheek.  Again his cheeks heated up and a goofy smile sprawled across his cheeks, what had just happened between them disappearing from his mind.  Wow.  He hadn’t been kissed on the cheek--or anywhere else--since he’d managed to magick one of Sif’s favorite swords back together on the training field.  And then he’d cut her hair and that was the end of that.  

“Now, can we get out of here?” She asked, already getting up to her feet and offering him her hand.  He took it and stood just as quickly, thanking her before they headed towards the town.  Her hand never left his, her fingers intertwining with his.  

The sun was just coming up over the horizon of the different buildings, some reaching high into the sky, the others squat and simple, likely housing.  They passed by wide-mouthed yawning workers on their daily commute to the workshops and whatever else they did for a living, the few muted words passed between them spoken in rough German.  Or at least that was what Natasha identified it as; the Allspeak made it all sound identical.

“So, how did you get us here, and how come you didn’t do it before?” She asked, keeping her words quiet and laying her head down on Loki’s shoulder.  She was just a few inches shorter than he was, though he knew he wasn’t quite done growing taller yet, and the feeling sent thunderbolts not unlike his brother’s through his body.  

“It was rather big magic,” he murmured.  “And I cannot do it when others are around lest we attract attention to ourselves.  That’s not really what we’re looking for, is it?” He asked, never specifying just whose attention they’d attract.  He didn’t want her to know too much out of fear of what Odin might do if they ever ran into him.  He didn’t want Natasha getting in trouble or hurt just because he couldn’t rein his tongue in.  

“What others?  We were alone in our motel room,” she reminded him.  He didn’t say a thing, having hoped that she wouldn’t have realized that he’d left that chief bit out, about why he hadn’t teleported them out of there when they had the chance.  Looking back he wished they did--they would’ve had a better head start than the one they had now.  “Loki.”  Natasha’s soft voice made him stop walking to look at her.  She moved to stand in front of him, her eyes searching his.  “I haven’t lied to you and that’s a big thing for me.  The least you could do is tell me the truth.  I think I’ve earned it.”

Yes, she had, but where the hell did he begin with the truth when lying was oxygen to him?  He bit his bottom lip and promised her answers once they got settled.  He didn’t want them to be overheard, just on the off hand chance that the Allfather had already sent scouts out to search for them.  The less he said out in the open the better off the pair of them would be.  

They found a nice room for rent for the night, assuring the matronly woman at the desk that they needed two beds.  Apparently not all of the property proprietors shared the same view on young adults rooming together, but Loki just hoped that they wouldn’t be interrupted again.  They needed the whole day and likely the evening for him to recuperate his magic--there was only so much he could do in a day--and he was dead exhausted from hardly sleeping before.  Natasha seemed to feel the same.  The moment they stepped in the bedroom she removed her boots and collapsed, face first and still clothed, in the bed.  

“Comfortable?” Loki teased, taking a little more time as he pulled a pillow and blanket from the bed.  This room didn’t have an extra chair for him to curl up in and so he decided on the floor.  All he got as way of response was a grumble that made no sense, and so he left it at that to curl up on the floor instead.  No sooner had he laid down then he heard the rustle of the covers.  

“What are you doing?”  Nat asked, her voice slightly slurred in her half sleep but her words smart enough.  

“Sleeping,” he said, turning on his other side to look at her.  Her red hair was little more than a frizzy circle around her head, messed up from the activities in Russia and from having, seemingly, covered her head with a pillow or something similar, but her eyes were vibrant and understand as she looked over at him.  

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired,” he offered with a laugh, laying back down.  

She scooted over to the side of the bed to look down at him, blue eyes curious.  “I figured that much.  Why there?”

“Because you didn’t want a bed partner and I can’t blame you,” he admitted with a quick shrug, laying on his back to look up at her.  She gave him a gentle smile and extended her hand.  There was a pause, then for the second time he took her hand in his and allowed her to bring him on the bed.  He brought his blanket and pillows with him so that when she turned to sleep on her side he could do the same, the pair of them facing the same direction.  He thought her already asleep as he pulled his legs up closer to his chest, curling up with his blanket covering him, one arm resting under his pillow.  

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”  Was she still talking?  Hadn’t they both decided they were going to bed?

“Why are you curled up like a cat?”

He paused, and turned his head slightly to look at her.  “I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”  She was grinning now, he could hear it in her voice.  One small hand reached out and pressed her fingertips just behind his ears.  “I bet you’re as responsive as a cat is, too.”  She started to scratch lightly, dull fingernails hitting just the right spot to send a shiver up his spine.  What.  What the hell was she doing to him?  He relaxed a little into her ministrations, eyes fluttering shut as she rubbed the bone just behind his ear.  

“I’ve always wanted a kitty cat,” she murmured.

His eyes shot open, giving her a teasing look of irritation as he swatted her hand away.  “Meow.” He teased, making Natasha snort.  “Are you going to let me sleep or do I have to find someone else’s bed to curl up on?”

Natasha smiled and stopped what she was doing, pulling her hand back and away from him as she turned on her other side and closed her eyes.  He watched her breathing slow, his lids half closed as they were, and in no time the both of them had fallen asleep.  Sometime in the middle of the night she’d turned and taken his hand in hers.  

 

The world seemed to just start coming to life by the time they woke up, though Loki saw from the clock on the wall it wasn’t even after seven in the evening yet. They’d slept for nearly twelve hours, and though he yawned and stretched and grinned as he looked over at Nat he wondered where the day had gone.  He shook her gently, about to wake her up, when there came a voice from somewhere to his left, faint and familiar and making his blood turn to ice.  He swallowed hard as he sat up slowly and walked towards the bathroom.  He froze when he saw a face staring back out at him, the blue eyes wide as they stared out at him, pushing a strand of blond hair out of his face.  Behind Thor Loki saw Amora peering into what must have been a pool of water that she was using to scry, to find them.  

“Go away,” Loki growled, about to take his fist to the mirror.  He didn’t want to be found, didn’t want them to see him here.  He wanted to be left alone with Natasha and that was all, but Thor hastened to explain before Loki could destroy the looking glass.

“Loki father is furious--he’s coming to get you,” he said quickly.  “You have to return.  He’ll only be more angry if he has to track you down himself.”

Loki’s face went white.  “What?  I thought he’d send someone--he’s coming down here?” He asked, mouth going dry as he considered Thor’s words.  Odin never left the kingdom unless it was to protect his family and people.  Even when envoys would call for him to attend he’d either scry with them or send someone else in his stead, not wanting to leave his young sons at home.  

If he was coming down, though.  “How much time do I have?”

“I’d say an hour or two.  He’s assembling a guard team to come with him in case there’s trouble.”  Odin wouldn’t want to put himself in the spotlight as the fighter, not wanting to garner attention to himself, and an attack or defense could be explained away as provoked or self-defense if it was anyone else; they would be the ones to pay the price for inciting a feud between Asgard and Midgard, not Odin.  It was smart, tactical, and it had Loki’s palms sweating.

“What--can you distract him?” Loki begged, hating himself for having to ask his brother for anything, but he knew THor would help as much as he could.  He was too devoted to helping his family and friends not to.  Loki couldn’t have been more grateful for a trait he once thought so childish.  Thor asserted that he would do his very best, trying to come up with a plan with Amora to keep Odin busy.  

“We won’t be able to buy you much more than half an hour,” the sorceress said, looking nervous at their plan.  She and Odin never really saw eye to eye, Amora often causing mayhem between his two sons too often for the king to have a positive opinion of her.  

“That’s enough--thank you,” Loki breathed, trying to collect his own thoughts.  Thor stared at him once more, his eyes searching his brothers.  

“He will be tracking your magic so don’t use too much of it.  And brother: do not bring her with you when you come back.  You know father has forbidden it and likely will wipe her memories or else kill her.”  

Loki gritted his teeth and balled his fists.  “I know the consequences of taking a mortal to Asgard, brother, you don’t need to lecture me.”  

Thor looked as if he wanted to reach out, though whether to shake Loki or comfort him the younger prince couldn’t tell.  They said their goodbyes either way and Loki rushed into his and Nat’s room, shaking her awake as quickly as he could.  She blinked, bleary eyed and confused, as he tried to insist that they needed to leave, immediately.  Something seemed to click in her brain because a moment later she was hiking up her pants and straightening her shirt, pulling her long hair into a pony tail.  

“What happened, what’s wrong?”

“My father is coming to look for us,” Loki hissed.  He didn’t dare speak his name, not wanting Heimdall or Odin to hear it and track its origin.  

“Your father--the king?” She asked, her eyes going wide as she shrugged her coat on and packed up what few things they had.  Loki nodded and Nat gave a small shiver.  “What does he want?”

“Me back on Asgard where he thinks I belong, and you to stay here,” he muttered.  He didn’t want to tell her about the other chance they were taking, what Odin might do if Loki had made him angry enough.  It was dangerous, having asked Thor and Amora to distract the king because it would only put him in a more foul mood, but it was the only plan Loki could think up.  It had to work because if it didn’t.  No, he’d never let that happen.  His eyes flitted over to where Natasha was going through what small money they had left, the little she’d been able to steal from the Red Room, that they’d decided to keep in case of an emergency, and his mind flew back to his promise.  He was going to look after her, whether or not Odin would allow it.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY got this chapter up, and I'm sorry with how long it took. It's been a struggle, but I've got some traction now and I hope that it keeps going. Thanks so much for your continued reading and support, it means a lot <3 Hope you enjoy!

The pair managed to get onto a train to take them west late that evening and with Natasha’s small bag and the coats that Loki managed to magic out of a pair of old towels.  They’re warm in the cold evening air, protecting them both from the prying eyes of those they pass as they find seats at the back of the train.  Loki’s arm was wrapped around Natasha’s waist, holding her close to him even as they sat down, and he leaned over to press his lips to her cheek, hoping she wouldn’t find it too forthcoming.  She just smiled and relaxed beside him, but Loki couldn’t find any sort of solace until the train started moving and they were on their way out of Germany.  All he could wonder was how close behind them was Odin, how soon would the Allfather be on them?  Would there be any escaping him, and how long could Thor keep him busy?  He didn’t like not knowing any of the answers, each adding to the other to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat.  At his side Nat looked up, curious.  

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about being followed.”

“By your father?” She asked, voice quiet, as though the Allfather was just in the car next to them, able to hear every word.  He couldn’t blame her; the thought of the figure put him just as easily on edge.  Loki simply nodded, swallowing hard.  

“I’m sure everything is fine, but my brother simply sounded worried and so I am as well.  I do not want Odin to find you for fear of what he would think--.”

“Because of what I used to be?” She asked, an edge to her voice he’d not heard before.  He quickly shook his head.

“Because you are mortal; your profession or training or anything else has nothing to do with it,” he assured her, hoping it would be true.  One could never tell with Odin.  “But I worry he’ll consider it a quick fling and order me to stay away from you.”  Not that he’d listen.

She buried her face in his chest, letting him stroke the soft red curls of her hair and murmur that he wouldn’t leave her if he had the choice--even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t leave her--if the Allfather found them.  She meant far too much to him so soon, and there was no way he was going to give it up.  He felt her smile against his skin, looking up at him with glassy, hopeful blue eyes.  “Thank you, Loki.  I owe you so much.”  

He smiled and nodded, swallowing hard the lump that had formed in his throat.  Why did she have to be mortal?  Why couldn’t he have formed such a bond--especially one this quick and strong!--with one of the Aesir?  Perhaps that was what drew him to her so much--no.  That was what Odin would say, would call it an infatuation with the idea that she lived so quickly, nearly in the blink of an eye to them, and that it made everything between them seem the more intense.  Better.  No, he couldn’t think like that, couldn’t let her mortality be a novelty.  He truly cared for her, not because she was weak or quick to grow old but because she needed someone to care for her.  He could read it in her eyes, the way they surveyed everything as if it were a threat, in the way she held her arms tight around her body to keep herself together and shield her body, and the way her mind worked so as to keep three steps ahead of all others, to protect herself from the worst of the damage.  

“So, what are we going to do to keep away from him?  We’re moving.  What else?” Natasha asked after some time, the train having lulled Loki almost to sleep it was so peaceful.  Her question provokes more silence, enough to make her sit up and stare at him, searching for an answer.  

“You do have a plan, don’t you?”

If he was honest with himself no, Loki didn’t have a plan.  The realization was a wound to his confidence that they could get away from his father.  Loki was almost always working on a plan, no matter how outlandish it might have seemed to others there was always something on his mind enough to keep him occupied and constantly thinking.  Natasha had distracted him entirely, reduced him down to simply running to try and get away, not thinking through his actions (as best exemplified, he realized, by the use of big magic.  He’d have to be much more careful about that, not just the magic but, well, with thinking things through.  He’d never had this problem before.  

“Not just yet.  I’m working on one.”  

The look in her eyes tells him that she caught that lie, damn her.  “Loki, I asked you not to lie to me.  Please.”  

He sighed.  Of course.  How could he have forgotten so easily?  “I don’t have a plan, and this worries me.  I shouldn’t let it, but it does.”  He sighed.  How did he say this?  “I’m worried that even with a plan Odin will find us, and so I was thinking perhaps the best strategy would be to do whatever seems to be best in the moment.  To be impulsive.  It may help to keep him off our trail for as long as we can.”  He doesn’t want to say what’ll happen if they can’t, but it’s all he’s got to go on.  Natasha doesn’t look too pleased with the answer, eyebrows drawn together as she tried to think of a solution that would best fit her style.  He could tell she was used to having something to follow, whether routine or habit or direct order.  Loki was used to being the one to give out said orders, to come up with the tactical plans that would best suit Thor and himself and their strengths, that would get Loki what he wanted.  But against Odin, the Allfather?  What could Loki do to get what he wanted besides run?  

“What’s the one thing that Odin wouldn’t predict?  He knows you well enough to guess what you’ll do next?”

“Depending on if he has Thor with him or not, yes.  He knows me quite well,” Loki admitted.  “To be candid, I had not expected either of them to notice I was even missing until a few days had passed.  I don’t exactly draw attention to myself, and I’m not keen on being followed so when I came here I ensured that the attentions of the rest of my people were very diverted. “

“Loki, you’re getting off subject,” Nat insisted with a sigh.  Balancing her head in her palm she stared off into space, allowing Loki to dive into his own thoughts, blushing at her accusation.  He’d never done that before--by the nine, what was getting into him? He was losing it around her.  With as much force as he could muster he reigned himself back in, swallowing hard as he thought it over.  

“Well, once we get to Spain so long as we keep a low profile that will put him off as long as we have to," Loki murmured. His voice grew quieter as a few passengers strode by, arm tightening around Natasha as an effect, and she didn't fight it.  

“And money?  How will we pay for things, wouldn’t that be big magic?”

Loki shook his head.  “As I said, it is simple enough to glamor money as it is clothing, but we must be careful not to visit the same place too often, lest they wonder why their money turns to leaves or simple bits of paper and tin.”  It had happened to him once before in Asgard; the man had come screaming to Odin for repayment, throwing the dung and refuse Loki had been paying him with on the floor of the throne room.  Odin had tanned his hide for that after paying the man with gold from the Asgardian treasury, but it had been well worth it.  The man had been insulting Loki, and it had pleased the prince more than anything to have seen him accept horse shit with a gracious, wide smile on his face.  

“So why don’t we plan on moving from Spain to somewhere else?  Somewhere they won’t find us?” She asked, swallowing hard as she looked up at him, hopeful.  “Because we have to get as far away from Germany as possible, right?  Using as little magic as we can?”  Loki nodded.  “Well then why don’t we try for North America?  We’ll get all the documents and forge what we have to--I can do that, they taught me how--and once we leave Spain do you think he'll be able to track us out of Europe?"

"Yes." She didn't want him to lie after all. "There's a very good chance, but again so long as we stay unpredictable we should have a better shot at him not finding us." There was only so long they could try and outrun him. As the train ride went on they decided that North America would be the best option, whether they went up north to Canada as both of them seemed to prefer due to the colder weather, or stayed within the United States it would be best to be on a constant move. Loki grew nervous about that. It was one thing to say it, to reassure her that so long as they didn't put roots down they should be safe, but how long would she content herself with that life? How long until she was running from him, and he following after her?

“Either way,” Loki concluded as the train neared its first stop of the evening, a railway in Strasbourg, “We cannot stay in Spain for long; it may be hours away from where we just appeared but I do not wish to take any chances.”  He only wished that he could use his magic to trick the Allfather, rather than lead the man to them.  It would be so much easier if he didn’t know the pattern in which Loki’s magic worked.  

But things were never that simple.  They got to Barcelona, Spain, a few days later, and by that time Loki was sick to death of Midgardian transport. It all moved so slow.  What he wouldn’t give for Sleipnir and a good night by wish to travel; they’d have been there in hours, not days.  But Natasha seemed happy enough to have traveled, not having said a word about Loki’s constant fidgeting.  It was sunny, and early in the morning, when they got there, Natasha’s stomach rumbling as it demanded food.  Wrapping one arm around her and taking their small bag, Loki led them from the train station and asked a man walking by, in fluent Catalan, where was a good place to eat.  He took them in slowly and Loki could practically see the way his mind was working, taking in the nice coats that Loki had glamored for he and Natasha, and the way they held the other, that they’d just come from the train and as well as how young they were.  The man seemed to be caught between deciding whether or not they were tourists or just rich children looking for a way to kill time as he pointed them in the direction of a small shop down the street, claiming it had the best food he’d ever tried.  His smile was wide, too familiar, and judging by how Natasha had stiffened when she saw it Loki wasn’t the only one on guard from having seen it.  

They left quickly after thanking him, Loki trying to peek further into the man’s mind, to read his thoughts and plans for the pair of them, but he decided, it seemed, to leave them alone.  For that Loki let out a rush of air he hadn’t known he’d been holding. After breakfast, which had been a muted affair, neither of them wanting to garner more attention than they already were (because, Loki supposed, they didn't look like the typical young adults and conducted themselves much more carefully than the others of their similar age) they managed to find a decent place to stay and paid once again with glamored money. Loki would have to be sure not to use the same items all the time, and considered pickpocketing. It might be better than and allow them to stay longer, after all, but Natasha was one step ahead of him, pulling out a few small bills to hand to Loki. "For tomorrow when you pay him," she said, stowing the old wallet she'd pulled the bills from away.

Not for the first time Loki wondered if he might just love this woman.  He pushed those thoughts away, though, preferring to mull over them in the quiet of the evening.  They came up with a brief enough plan for the week during which Loki would scout out possible prospects to leave and Natasha would check on a few contacts she knew of in Spain.  She warned him not to act too outlandishly or flaunt too much of his money around; the country was going through rough economic times and any sort of excess would quickly be looked down on, then snapped up greedily.  Loki nodded, thanking her for the warning and keeping that at the very back of his mind.  Natasha was also fairly certain she could get them the required documents to make their way to North America so long as they could get enough money.  Not that it was the biggest of worries for either of them but the process would take a few weeks.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he was comfortable with that, but when he asked Nat if they had any other options she simply shook her head.  Well, at least one choice was better than none.  

 

The days seemed to drag on, and though Loki was happy to be spending as much time as he could with Natasha, the pair of them sometimes able to sneak an hour or two to go sightseeing, or get food together, Loki wasn’t ever able to shake the feeling that Odin was drawing closer, getting nearer to them.  They moved around in Spain constantly while they waited for their papers to finish being forged, ending up in Madrid, Segovia, Zaragoza, Bilbao--anywhere large enough that Loki was certain they could try and hide in to keep attention from them, but every tall man he saw with grey hair and a grey beard immediately put him on edge.  Odin wasn’t above taking on disguises.  

Natasha was best at calming him down when he’d worked himself up into a fit of nervousness.  He’d go around the room, throwing things in a bag and she would sit him down, her hands firm on his shoulders, and press her lips to his cheek, his temple, forehead, whisper that they were alright and they’d leave in the morning after he had time to think on it, to reach his magic out as far as he dared to test the waters and see if Odin was near.  Loki might’ve had a nervous collapse, he thought, if it wasn’t for her, and he was so grateful for her level-headedness.  Often he tried to repay the favor by bringing her home small gifts.  Trinkets, nothing more, but things he thought she’d have liked.  She’d told him of the ballet lessons she’d been forced to take and so he brought her home a small music box with a ballerina that spun within every time it opened, playing some haunting tune that Nat seemed to recognize.  It brought the smallest of smiles to her lips before she’d pressed hers to his in gratitude.  He liked buying her jewelry, too, and more often than not found himself looking into the finest of shops, looking to see if there was anything that might come close to fitting her beauty.  This generally garnered him odd looks, though once or twice he explained it away as wanting to buy something for his mother.  This softened the hearts, it seemed, of many a women, and Loki played on their sentiment with ease as he would pickpocket a pair of diamond earrings, a ruby bracelet, even a real emerald necklace.  He couldn’t help himself, wanting to present all three to Natasha on the anniversary of their first month together.  It felt like a special occasion and he couldn’t get over the giddy nerves that writhed in his stomach like a pit of serpents.  

Something was wrong, however, when he stepped closer to the apartment they were currently staying in, and his eyes widened as he felt something, or someone, step out from behind him.  He twisted around quickly to see Thor looking down at him, face drawn together in a strange mixture of excitement and sorrow as he reached out to pull his brother into a fierce hug.  Loki snarled and pulled away.  

“What the hell are you doing here--go away!” He shouted, shoving his brother away from him.  Thor hardly moved an inch.  

“I’ve come to make sure that you come upstairs.  Father is here and he wishes to speak with you.”

The words are enough to chill Loki and without another word he sprints away.  He doesn’t miss the surprised flash in Thor’s eyes and knew he was giving far too much of himself away.  On Asgard he was always so cool and so removed from the situations, even the ones where he was in trouble he never quite gave the satisfaction of a reaction.  Now, on Midgard, he’d grown so used to wearing his emotions with Natasha that it bled into his concern for her.  He slammed open the door to the one bedroom apartment that he and Nat had shared only to find Odin sitting at their meager table.  He seemed to take up the whole room, and with it the oxygen Loki’s body needed to survive and the capacity for words his brain was usually so fluent with.  

“How?”  He finally managed to splutter.

“Did you really think you could escape me forever, Loki?” Odin asked, his voice quiet and his one good eye narrowed as he took in his son.  “I’m disappointed that you tried.  Do you understand how much work there is to be done as a king of Asgard?”  He looked down at the table in front of him, holding up a pair of birth certificates and passports that he and Natasha had been waiting for.  Apparently today was supposed to be a good one for news.  “And you meant to keep me on the run for as long as you could stand until, what?  I gave up?”

“You should have just left me alone--us alone.  Where is Natasha?” He demanded, eyes flitting around the apartment.  Surely, no.  Odin wouldn’t have--.

“She’s alive.  Thor saw that I spared her,” Odin assured him though his voice sounded regretful.  Loki’s hands balled into tight fists, but threw his brother a thank you.  The thunderer had trekked up the stairs behind him and shut the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed.  Not that it mattered to Loki.

“Where is she, then?”

“Somewhere I’ve kept hidden from you.  You’re not to go after her, Loki.  You’ve involved yourself far too much in her life as it is, and you’re lucky I didn’t just take her memories of you away at all.  She’s displaced you as a friend she had in that Red Room of hers you saw so fit to destroy, and with its destruction you perished as well.  That’s what’s best is for the both of you to think of this as nothing but a fond memory--no, Loki.  You will be silent while I speak.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, mouth still poised to talk over his father, though no words came out.  His eyes widened, and he glared all the more vehemently.  Bastard.  

“And with her gone and taken care of you have no need to stay on Midgard.  It’s time to come home, son.”  Now Odin stood, striding forward to place one of his hands on Loki’s shoulders.  The smaller teenager pulled away with a silent scowl.  He would think that, Loki fumed.  He would believe that everything could go back to normal now that Loki’s friend had gone back, likely to some hell hole akin to the one he’d pulled her out of.  As Odin continued to talk, to complain to him about everything he’d had to do to try and find Loki, the sorcerer tried to reach out, to see if Odin was indeed bluffing about having displaced Natasha or even kept her alive.  When he couldn’t find her he feared the very worst, his eyes going wide as he looked back up at Odin.  

With a heavy sigh his father shook his head.  “She’s fine, Loki.  She’s well taken care of and looked after. in a much better establishment and place than you could think.  As I already told you Thor saw to that, and you have his word and my own that she is safe for now.  What happens afterwards is none of any of our business.”  He reached out a hand to grab Loki’s shoulder again, this time his grip tight even as his son tried to pull away.  “Now we’re going.  Leave everything from Midgard you have here; it’s time to come home.”  His hand moved to cup the side of his youngest’s face and Loki was ashamed to feel the tears smear over his face, not realizing he’d been crying until then.  He’d tried so hard to keep her safe, to keep her protected and away from the other Aesir, from the mortals that would do her harm--from everyone--and he’d failed.  He pulled away from Odin and motioned to his father to give him a moment, during which he returned to his and Natasha’s room, pulled out the two boxes of jewelry he’d collected and added to it the third, the emerald necklace.  He had his voice by the time he returned to the two other men and thrust the boxes into Odin’s hands.  

“Make sure she gets these.  Even if she doesn’t know who they’re from at least she can sell them for money if she has to.”  He said, his eyes hardening with his resolution.  It was the least he could do after all.  Odin looked as though he would object but Thor simply shook his head.

“Father, please,” the blond man said quietly.  “It’s a parting gift.  Then Loki will return without complaint, won’t you brother?”

Without verbal complaint perhaps, but without any sort of displeasure?  Impossible.  He’d always hate Odin for this, always, and there would come a day when he would return to Midgard to find her.  Even if he didn’t know when or how he would do it, and drew as much comfort from the idea as he could.  

Odin agreed, and after Thor had popped out of sight, then back in, the three disappeared for good in a burst of rainbow colors and the sound of rushing air, but the golden city held no love or sway for Loki anymore, who stomped off in true teenager fashion to slam his door shut and break as many things as he could lay his hands on within the room.  It was all the control over his life he seemed to have anymore.  

 

Peggy Carter looked across the table at the young redheaded woman opposite her and afforded her a rare smile.  The girl had spirit, she could see that already, practically watching the way the cogs in her head moved as she looked around the room.  Peggy could almost see her categorizing each item, as though sizing them up for weapon availability, her attention snapping back to focus when Peggy cleared her throat.  

“It says in your file that until recently you worked for the Russians in a secret organization known as the Red Room.  We’ve heard about them, and also know that despite their base being blown up they still exist and seem to have plans to rebuild.  So, I must ask you Miss. Romanov: Why the sudden change in heart?” She asked, setting the file down in front of her and folding her hands together on her desk.  Her brown eyes stared into the cool blue ones of the young girl, watched as she shrugged and looked down, worrying at her bottom lip.  

“I lost someone I cared about.  I want to do everything I can to fix it and make up for it.”  She said, more to the floor than to Peggy, and the agent’s heart swelled a little at that.  

“I know a little of what that’s like,” Peggy admitted, looking quickly from her file back to Natasha, who’d looked up.  A flash of hope lit passed through Nat’s eyes, and Peggy couldn’t help herself from stamping the file and handing it back to Natasha.  

“Welcome to the Strategic Scientific Reserve, Agent Romanov.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray this chapter is finally done! I'm sorry it took so long, and I hope it's well worth the wait. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Again,” Natasha barked even as the agent opposite her groaned and slumped a little, the bruise on his face already swelling from where Natasha had landed a second consecutive punch.  She didn’t care for his pain though, able to feel the eyes of Peggy on her as she squared off against the man opposite her.  He was nearly twice her size, definitely twice her physical age (not surprising, seeing as she was the youngest looking agent there despite being actually older than the man.)  After a moment’s hesitation, in which the agent opposite her tried to figure out which weak spot of Nat’s to hit next to finally make her stop training, he lunged.  She side-stepped with ease, bringing her fist to his arm to deaden it, then swung her leg to kick him in the back of the shoulders.  He fell down in a moment, shouting that he yielded and Nat looked up at Peggy.  There was a smile tugging at the corners of the woman’s lips that filled Nat’s heart.  Good.  She was doing well; she only got a smile when she was doing really well.  

Natasha called for another round and Peggy couldn’t help but shake her head.  The girl was going to kill herself by if she kept pushing it, but the older woman couldn’t help but understand the need Natasha felt to prove herself, to show that she was a worthy investment and that they should be happy to have picked her up.  She’d succeeded there, Peggy supposed, as she turned her attention down to the papers in front of her.  Congratulation papers, signed by the general as well as the head of the department, Nick Fury himself.  Unbeknownst to Natasha, the Director had come by to see the girl train a few weeks ago, and he’d very much liked what he’d seen, wanting to sign her to the team right then and there.  It would require more time than that, Peggy had insisted, and she’d been right.  Getting Natasha to break out of her old habits, as well as the strange headspace she seemed to go to whenever they discussed the past, was going to be a lengthy process, and though Peggy had sent a soldier into the war before without waiting to see how he’d react to it she wasn’t keen to repeat the process.  She felt her heart pang as she thought of Steve and forced herself to think of something else, such as the fact that the agent who Natasha was facing against was shouting in pain as the young girl twisted his arm hard behind his back, his face planted into the mat and feet pushing uselessly against the leg lock she had him in.  

“That’s enough, Miss. Romanov,” Peggy said quietly, her voice carrying through the otherwise silent room.  Immediately, Nat released the man and pulled away to stand up, straight and stock still, at attention.  The man groaned with relief as he felt his body go lax, then rolled onto his feet and shuffled out of the room.  

“You’re not going to have any fighting partners if you keep that up,” Peggy rebuked though her tone was affectionate.

“I’m sorry.  Would you prefer me to go easier on them to raise morale?”  Natasha asked, one eyebrow rising.  

“Miss. Romanov, there’s no need for that tone with me.”

“Then call me Natasha so I don’t feel like I’m being forced to be someone I’m not.  Please, Agent Carter.”

“Peggy.”  It was a two way street, after all.  

“Peggy.” Natasha repeated, testing the name out on her tongue, watching as the woman walked closer, moving her hands behind her back to shuffle the papers out of sight.  Nat wondered why but held her tongue, hoping it wasn’t another rebuke.  She couldn’t be in trouble again, could she?  She shuffled her feet, unable to help herself; ever since she’d been brought here by . . . well, she could hardly remember who had done it, but since she’d arrived she’d been doing her very best to fit in, to show that she belonged.  She needed to belong because there was nowhere else for her to go if not here.  There would certainly be other members of the Red Room, quieter sects, who were out looking for her, and on her own, without any sort of back-up, she was most certainly dead.  

Unable to stop herself any longer, Peggy’s lips spread into a wide smile as she extended the papers in one hand to Natasha, and the other to offer the girl a handshake.  

“Welcome to the SSR, Agent Romanov.”  

Nat felt her heart skip a beat, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping a fraction of an inch.  She’d gotten into the program?  She was proud of her hand’s steadiness when she took Peggy’s and shook, then reached for the papers to see for herself.  Opposite her, Peggy couldn’t help but smile as she watched Nat’s eyes scan the document, swearing under her breath in Russian as she flipped the page, documenting what she’d be paid, what she’d be doing, and all the other technical nonsense that she’d need to know as a member of the agency. When she finally looked back up at Peggy there was a wide smile on her face.

“Thank you, Peggy.”

Smiling herself, Peggy dropped a hand on Nat’s shoulder and squeezed.  “You were the one who did all the work.  Now come along; there’s much more to be done now that you’re a part of the team.”

The workload only increased from there, and s the two women started to spend more time together, Peggy training Natasha with everything she knew, watching as the young girl picked up how to shoot straight with a myriad of different styles of guns with clinical precision, how to fight with a knife, and more than anything how to use her size and her speed as her greatest asset.  Peggy couldn’t help but be proud of how quickly Nat picked everything up yet there was always a tinge of fear in the eyes of the other girl, as though she might be reprimanded.  It showed up the most whenever Natasha found herself struggling with something, and even though Peggy told her that she was doing a damn good job at learning all the new skills Nat never seemed to think it was good enough.

“It’s not perfect,” she murmured, her eyes flashing with that same convoluted mix of fear and determination.  “If it’s not perfect then I’m only putting myself and others in danger and I’m not doing my job.”

What had been done to this little girl to make her think such things?  Peggy suppressed a shiver as she watched Nat pick up the sniper gun once more and set it down on the flat surface in front of her, lining the barrel up just right so that when she squeezed the trigger the bullet missed the absolute center by less than half an inch.  Natasha didn’t put the gun back down until she’d gotten it right, five shots in a row, two hours later.  

“Were you trained to do everything perfectly when you worked in the Red Room?”  Peggy asked when Nat finally put the gun down, her arms shaking from having held it and held herself in control for so long.  

Nat nodded.  “We were punished if we weren’t.  I guess I haven’t yet gotten over it.”  She murmured with a sigh.  She thought she had, but perhaps not.  Maybe she wouldn’t get the chance for a second start after all, and the idea lowered her mood again.  

The hand on her shoulder made her head rise to stare at Peggy, the woman’s gaze was deep and sympathetic.  It said that she understood, she knew what Natasha felt, at least to some degree, and though her initial reaction was to push the woman away Nat forced herself to muscle through it.  She smiled instead, trying to choke back her instinct to hide herself away.  Getting close meant putting herself in danger.  Putting herself in danger meant death, and death was not an acceptable outcome for a Red Room operative.  

But maybe, just maybe, she thought as she followed Peggy out of the room to get food, the woman’s hand never leaving her shoulder, she could make an exception.  Just this once.  

  
  
  


Each night she dreamt of him, though they never lasted long enough for her tastes, and each night it was different.  It suited her fine, though, if she was honest with herself.  She liked seeing him, feeling him against her even if it was just for a short amount of time, his arms wrapped around her to hold her tight to him.  Tonight they were laying, his arms around her waist and her back to his chest as he kissed his way from the crown of her head to the base of her neck, her name murmured on his lips.  She recognized the room as her own and sighed at her lack of creativity.  

“I miss you,” she murmured quietly, wishing she didn’t sound so pathetic when she said it.  She felt, rather than heard, him sigh and repeat the words, his forehead pressed against the side of her head, lips on her ear as he promised her he’d try to visit soon.  She smiled in spite of herself, feeling chills race up her arms.  His voice never failed to make her feel so much more than anything else ever had managed to.  Not even a good fight was comparable to the way her heart surged and her stomach flopped when he was this near.  Even if it was just a dream.  

Slowly, she turned to face him, his eyes as green as she remembered, face as young as ever though she’d gotten older, before they closed as she leaned closer to kiss him.  He opened up for her without hesitation, rolling her atop him so that she could roll her hips against his, gasping into the kiss as she felt him hard against her center.  His fingers flitted down to the edges of her sweatpants and--.

The alarm surged through her room, forcing Nat’s eyes to shoot open as she spun around in her bed.  Fuck.  For years they’d been ending just before she got to the good part, but relieving the fire in her gut and between her legs was going to have to wait.  Beside the table there was an order for her to get up and get ready for a debriefing; she had a mission to do.  

It had been nearly sixty years since Natasha had seen Loki, since she’d been a child running through the forests of Russia from the Red Room operatives and he’d killed them for her.  Protected her when they came back.  Just like that, however, he’d been pulled away from her, and now all she had was the mission.  Shield, they were now called.  She’d grown up under the tutelage of Peggy Carter, a woman unlike any other that Nat had ever met since then, and they still made sure to keep in regular contact.  When she was afforded the time Nat visited her, either on her way to or from a mission.

This one, unfortunately, didn’t seem like it’d be one.  She and Phil were taking off to New Mexico, Barton being stationed at Stark Industries, posing as Pepper’s and Tony’s newest assistants.  Nat had volunteered for the job, having been around Stark since he was born and having known Howard (rather intimately she wasn’t too proud to admit), but Fury thought it best to keep someone undercover.  Tony was damn good at hiding his messes when he really wanted to, and he’d do anything to keep Nat from knowing all his problems.  Clint had been the next best option, though he lamented being separated from his boyfriend.  

“Oh shut up,” Nat said as Clint asked her to switch before she was due to leave in the coming days.  “He’ll be back before you know it.”  The man might have been an amazing archer and a fantastic shot, but he got on her nerves more often than not.  His sarcasm was fitting for his personality and what he’d been through, but when she’d run into him years ago, Phil passing paperwork over to the young ex-circus performer and helping him fudge the details the blond couldn’t remember, she’d felt some sort of a kinship towards him.  They’d both escaped terrible situations by the skin of their teeth, but his coping mechanism, she soon learned, was nothing like her own.  She shut everything else out while, when he was upset, everyone and their mother knew of it.  The bloody idiot; it was going to get him killed, and as his partner Nat would be in trouble as well.  

She couldn’t focus on that now, though, she reminded herself as she made her way down to the car, Phil clicking the locks open so that she could throw her small duffle bag into the back and climb into the side passenger seat.  

“You sure you’re ready for this?  The desert is hot,” Phil said, shooting her a knowing smile.  She always kept her room about twenty or so degrees cooler than everyone else’s, missing the winters of Russia she’d told him once.  She punched his arm, rolling her eyes.  

“Please.  You’d be lost without me.”

“Nope!” He said rather cheerfully, pulling out a small black square and setting it on the dashboard.  “Garmin loves me enough to keep me on track.”  

Now Nat really did laugh.  

 

Aside from a brief interlude at a gas station in the middle of, well, nowhere to be honest, they made it to Puente Antiguo just as the sun hit high noon for the day.  Phil parked the car and stepped out, surveying the crater in the middle of the dry, cracked land, calling Fury and explaining to the man just what they’d found.  Nat watched from within the air conditioned car, having felt more than enough heat when Coulson had opened the door.  It was so empty and peaceful out here, she mused as she leaned back, watching Coulson’s shoulders move as he made projections to the director.  She’d worked out too many details with him to know just about word-for-word how their conversation was going with him, heard him go over the specs over and over.  Her eyes shut, smiling in spite of herself at the thought of how Fury would respond when Coulson told him exactly what sort of fort he wanted to build around the hammer.  And really?  Who the hell used a hammer as a sort of Excalibur?  Seriously it was just so warm.  And relaxing.  

She opened her eyes to find herself sitting opposite Loki, his smile easy as he closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a slow, sultry kiss that sent sparks all the way down to her toes.  “Don’t forget about me.”  His voice was a quiet plea against her lips, not wanting to move away just yet, the slight friction more than enough to make Nat quiver with want and longing for his proximity again.  It was more than just a want, though, she realized when he complied and pulled her into his lap, her legs wrapping around his torso.  She needed him, and always had she thought in hindsight.  He kept her strong, taught her it was okay to do what she wanted.  She owed him everything, and for once she thought she might be able to give it--.

 

“Natasha?”

Fuck.  

“Must’ve been one hell of a dream,” Phil smirked as he got back into the seat, Nat blinking sleepily and rubbing her eyes.  

“Shut it, Phil, or I’ll record yours and Barton’s next long distance phone call to be played permanently in Fury’s office.”  

His smirk didn’t even falter, but as requested he kept his mouth shut.  There was work to be done anyway.  

 

The compound was still buzzing and recovering, even half an hour later, from the monster of a man that had torn a damn hole through their security, left it wide open and gaping.  Nat had been on her way to detain the blond bastard when Coulson had her stand down.  She’d seen the way his hands hand clasped the handle of the hammer, as though so sure that it would lift when not even Shield’s strongest technology could get that piece of crap out of there, and when it hadn’t and he’d fallen to his knees . . . well, she supposed every giant had its weakness.  His seemed to be himself.  How poetic.  Either way he was sitting in a cell with Coulson interrogating him, which shouldn’t take long, and she was stuck outside, waiting for something to happen while she surveyed the agents around her scrambling to patch everything back up.  The last thing they needed was an over interested journalist or curious civilian getting in here and seeing what their sect of the government was really doing.  

“Sitwell, how’re we looking?” She asked, moving to one of the computer rooms where the handler was going frame by frame through the tape of the man fighting.  

“Well, his style isn’t anything new; we’ve seen brutes fight,” the agent murmured.  “But him. . . he’s different.  His hand clenches and relaxes when he moves his right arm, as though he’s used to holding something.  The hammer, we would assume, but why wouldn’t he be able to pull it out?  Going along with the Arthurian myth of being able to pull Excalibur out of the stone, if this is the man’s weapon of choice why wouldn’t he be able to pick it up?”

“You’re still going along with the idea that it’s magic, or something?” Nat asked, one eyebrow raised, barely able to contain her sarcasm.  

“You have another reason for the readings we’ve been--holy shit,” he muttered, looking at the now whizzing machines.  Their needles had taken a faceplant on the wrong side of the semicircle, the readings off the charts, as though something nearby was setting them off.  “Phil,” Sitwell radioed.  “You have to come see this.”  

A moment later the agent was at Sitwell’s side, his face drawn in a look of tight confusion.  Natasha, meanwhile, didn’t like the idea that the man was all alone in his interrogation room.  If he’d gotten through their security before what was to say he wouldn’t try again?  Not to mention if they lost him it would be Nat’s ass on the line as well as Phil’s, and she simply respected the agent far too much to let that happen.  With sure feet she stepped back towards where Coulson had left but not a hundred feet in front of it she paused.  Her eyes went wide, fixing on a figure dressed in a deep green coat, a houndstooth scarf wrapped around his neck, and bright green eyes that had gone as wide as her own.  Thin lips parted as he made to say something, but before he could Coulson was right behind her and the man had gone.  

“Agent Romanov, something the matter?”  Coulson asked, looking back at Nat, who hadn’t moved from her place, her heart nearly giving out from how fast it was beating.  

She shook her head, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly.  A trick of the light?  A hallucination?  When the hell was the last time she’d eaten after the donuts Phil had picked up for her from the gas station?  “I’m fine, sir.  I just need a minute.”  She turned on her heel and walked out, breathing deep the night air around her, trying to shake her head and tell herself that she was fine, she wasn’t going crazy, and that she’d just been dreaming too much.  That was all, even if that explanation didn’t account for the fact that he’d grown up, too, whereas in her dreams he was always as young as when she’d first met him.  

 

On Asgard, Loki peered down at the young woman, her hands running through her hair as she tried to process what had just happened.  He begged her to say something, to acknolwedge what had just happened.  He wasn’t able to find her on his own thanks to the magic that Odin had placed on him, but the chance meeting?  Perhaps his luck would get better if she could just say--.

“Loki.”  

His name never sounded sweeter, and he smiled, relaxing.  She remembered him, him, just as surely as he remembered her.  How could he forget her?  He’d have to try and keep an eye on what they were doing.  He didn’t want his brother getting in the middle of everything, not again, but maybe if Loki could sneak another trip down to Midgard if she was still there--.

“My king.  There has been a request for your presence on Jotunheim.”  The guard sounded terrified, not only of Loki’s reaction to the interruption of his thoughts but the destination for their king to go.  Loki’s jaw clenched.  Finding her would have to wait, he supposed, one more day.  His current situation was far too precarious to let anything go to chance.  And yet . . . well, at least he knew she was still alive, and so long as she stayed near Thor he would be able to track her, to track his brother.  He hoped.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the update! I had a lot of fun writing this, but unfortunately had to stop it right here due to work. I'm moving this weekend, but I've got a full week between summer's end and school so ideally I'll get more done! 
> 
> Ideally haha
> 
> Thanks so much for the support!

In hindsight, he wished he’d taken the chance to see Natasha when he could.  The redhead had never left his thoughts, not as he sent the Destroyer to take care of his brother and the Warriors Three (“But none of the civilians,” he’d ordered.  He didn’t want to chance Natasha getting in the way of the Destroyer’s beam, not when he’d been waiting for her for so long) and he certainly never forgot about her as he fell through the vortex, the dark silence made comforting by the quick sight he’d had of her.  She’d grown into her body, a little taller, with long red hair and eyes as blue as ever.  If he thought the cosmos were deep they were nothing in comparison to her eyes.  When she’d said his name he’d felt his heart jump into his chest, choking him, and it was a moment he lived over and over again as he was suspended in time and space for so long it felt like a lifetime and a half.  He wanted to get out--needed to.  He had to find her and tell her he’d never leave her alone again.  Ever.  Upon his internal declaration he felt something stir inside him, a strange power flowing through his stomach and to the rest of his body, stretching into his fingertips and toes and to the crown of his head.  He felt strong, powerful enough to withstand whatever was thrown at him.  Strong enough to go get Natasha, if he could simply find the corner of this never ending pit--.

He crashed, instead, on a small moon, the slither of a serpentine body the only noise in the background, the figure so large it nearly made him swallow his tongue in shock.  In a mad scramble he stood up, whirling around as he struggled to determine which realm he’d landed on.  Whatever it was he was certain he hadn’t been here before.  It looked nothing like Jotunheim (which he was certain was in pieces, either way) and definitely the polar opposite of Alfheim, and there weren’t creatures this large on Midgard, save Jormungandr of course.  

“Loki Laufeyson.”  

His back stiffened at the name, hating whoever let it pass their lips.  He turned to see a figure cloaked in darkness, six fingers outstretched towards Loki and a wide smile playing on the man’s mouth, the only discernable feature on his face.  

“Who are you?” He asked, throat tight and eyes narrowed as he tensed.  He kept himself rather slouched, hoping that if he didn’t bring himself to his full height he might not immediately been seen as a threat.  The hesitation of this creature could be all he needed in order to get--.

But where, by the Norns, could he go?  The Bifrost was destroyed and his magic . . . well, it was still there, just muted.  Suppressed, almost.  

“I am simply known as the Other, and while you are here I mean you no harm.  We’ve been watching for some time, Laufeyson--.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Loki.”  The Other corrected, sneering.  “We believe that your intentions for the destruction of Jotunheim were true, beyond reproach no matter what the imbeciles of Asgard think.  You know this to be true, do you not Loki?”

Yes, somewhere in his heart he’d always thought that, he supposed.  He meant to destroy the one race that threatened the peace of Asgard and the other realms, what had been so wrong about wiping them out?  Had the Allfather himself not nearly done the same thing?

“So you wish me to continue my work?”

“We wish you to turn your attentions to a new world, and in return we will give you the chance you’ve been looking for.  An opportunity to rule, to prove yourself as a King and as a worthy, strong leader.  We will give you Midgard--all of it--in return for one object that has been lost on the surface.  The Tesseract.”  

Loki felt himself shudder.  The Tesseract, a glowing, bright blue cube, had once been the most powerful weapon in Odin’s weapons vault until its untimely disappearance when Thor and Loki had been teenagers.  Everyone had blamed Loki for its absence, thinking that the teenager had grown power-hungry and sought the destruction of the world with it.  Everyone save Frigga and his brother. He stiffened.  No, Thor.  He was no longer Loki’s brother.  

“How is it that it made its way to Earth?”

“Inquiring minds wish to know here as well, though it is not as important as retrieving the power source.”

Loki was quiet.  “And how do you suggest I manage this?  The tesseract is strong but not strong enough to wipe out my brother or his idiotic group of would-be heroes.”

“No, but it does have the power to alter their minds.  I’m sure you know this,” The Other sneered, his top lip curling.  

Loki felt himself stiffen, hands firsting slightly.  Normally when he played the fool it was those around him that walked right into his trap, assuming his questions were born out of a lack of knowledge, when really what they wouldn’t tell him was infinitely more useful.  In the Other’s case, however, the creature seemed to know Loki’s tact right off the bat.  How?  “We’ve been watching you for some time, Loki, as I said.  Do not think yourself so creative that I cannot see through such an easy ruse, and my master will be even more cunning should you ever have the misfortune and the pleasure of meeting him.”  

As if he hadn’t already had goosebumps.  Loki nodded his understanding, swallowing hard as he turned to look around the rest of the crater he’d seemed to land in.  It was all grey rock, and what was more when he looked further out into the distance he could see more of those creatures--the leviathans, he could only guess--roaming around.  They seemed to carry something in their sides, under the scales and armor they’d been born with.  Every so often Loki caught a head peeking out and he swallowed hard.  

“You lead the Chitauri.”

“We do, and you will as well if you choose to accept our offer.”  

He sounded awfully sure that Loki would, and the demigod couldn’t blame him.  What other choice did he have, really?  Marooned on this small planet, or whatever it could be considered, he was entirely at their mercy.  If they wanted him dead, well, he’d seen their forces and against him--one meager, broken ex-prince of Asgard, alone and weaponless--they would be victorious.  

What was more a deeper part of him, a part he didn’t want to admit to for some time, craved the recognition that would come with it.  He wanted the ability to rule; he deserved it far more than Thor ever had.  Who’d talked Thor out of every bad idea and counseled him through every good one?  Who’d manipulated their way past every guard, fighter, or imbecile in their way?  Had he not proven himself time and time again to be as worthy, if not more so, than the man he’d once called brother?  

“Where is the tesseract now?”

“In a remote location, under heavy guard.”  The Other seemed to relax as he spoke, his head cocked to the side as he considered the man before him.  “You still have use of your powers?”

“Yes.”  Though they were muted.  He could barely feel them stirring beneath the surface, but he supposed he’d regain them in some time.  Perhaps a week, if he was lucky.  Plenty of time for him to work out a plan.  “Though I can make my way through the power of the tesseract, tap into its strength and power.  It reacts to the need for both, and for strong emotions.”  Which he had always had in spades.  “And will make a simple doorway for me to get through.  Once I am on Midgard I will assemble a team of my own, create a portal, and bring your forces through.  Does that not sound like a good enough plan?”

“Suitable.”  The Other sounded pleased, but that changed as he stepped closer.  “I warn you now, though, Loki Laufeyson.  If you assume that you can get away with the tesseract, keep it from us and for yourself, you will be sorely mistaken.  You are a trickster and well known to be cunning and sharp-tongued, but there will be no place that you can hide where we will not find you should you keep what is ours from us.  You think you know pain?”  The words echoed in the small space between them, making Loki’s eyes narrow as he stared him down.  “You know nothing; you’ll be begging for something so sweet as pain when we’re done.”  

His hand grabbed Loki by the back of the head and snagged his hair, pulling hard and pressing a small knife to his throat.  The blade was sharp enough that without much force it cut a thin line into his skin, the blood slowly trickling down Loki’s throat.  He didn’t even swallow, not wanting the bob of his adam’s apple to move the blade further.  He understood what the Other was doing, but his eyes never left the would-be imposing figure, never faltered as he waited until the knife was retracted and the man in front of him laughed.  They wanted a warrior, someone to conquer Midgard?  They’d picked the wrong man.  But he would get the job done, one way or the next.  

What was more, and his mind registered this only when he was sure the Other’s attention was diverted, leading Loki through the ruins of what must’ve been a great city or collection of buildings centuries ago, was that for once he’d have the opportunity to see Natasha.  To find her.  

Hell, if things went according to plan he could make her his queen.  As his fingers closed around the scepter presented to him by his employer, the weight of it heavy but familiar in his hand, the make not all that different from the ones he’d had on Asgard if not a little shorter, he watched the blue gem at the crown glow.  There were other ways of getting what he wanted, he supposed, if it came down to it.  

 

Natasha had returned early from Russia, the mission having been much easier than she’d thought.  The man was an idiot, giving her all the answers while all she’d had to do was sit there and look defenseless.  At least it only took two days whereas Fury had been anticipating five.  He always seemed to underestimate her, though.  It was getting old., she decided.  Clint was talking to Phil when she finally made it down to the basement of SHIELD headquarters, and his blue eyes looked up and over to her, allowing a smile to crack his lips.  

“Hey!  There’s my relief!” He said with an easy smile that Nat couldn’t help but shoot back quickly.  He may have been an idiot, but he was a good worker, and out of respect for Phil she usually kept her mouth shut.  Agent Coulson extended a hand to her as wel, shaking it quickly, before pulling her under his arm for a quick hug.  She let him, relaxing against him.  

“Anything interesting?”

“God, no.  Selvig is probably one of the most boring men I’ve ever known.”  He was lucky not to have been on the Russian detail with her, then.  “You sure you don’t mind taking over?”

“Nah, no problem at all.  You two need a date night,” she teased.  “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from Phil, and he’ll make me do paper work for a year.  It’s not worth it.”

The pair thanked her, Clint by mussing up her hair, and after she’d rolled her eyes and threatened to kick his ass before she changed her mind the two left.  

 

Only an hour or so after they’d gone and the situation took a definitively worse turn.  Fury and Hill were called in the minute that the tesseract started to act up, Natasha walking around the edges of it, surveying each of the scientists and Selvig, trying to see if one of them was tampering with it, or just what the damn thing was doing.  It kept glowing bright blue and sparking, reaching out almost to touch those around it, as though it was trying to connect.  She’d seen what it could do, the power it held, and it made her shiver.  Why it was suddenly so, well, alive was way above her pay grade.  

“What’s going on Agent Romanov?”  Fury boomed as he entered the basement, looking from her to Selvig, then back to Natasha.  The astrophysicist turned back to his work, grumbling under his breath.  

“Not a one clue yet, sir.  It seems to be reaching out, though, preparing itself, bringing itself up to its full power,” she said when the man drew closer.  “It’s almost as though it’s waiting for something.”

“Waiting for what?”

“I have a feeling we’ll find out before too long.”

She wished she hadn’t said that, knowing good and well the minute it passed her lips that she was jinxing the whole situation.  On cue the whole building shook, and again the tesseract sparked and reached out towards everything around it, blue lightning and energy crackling in the atmosphere as she heard the tell-tale whirring sound she usually associated with Stark’s repulsors.  

“GET DOWN!” She shouted, and seconds afterwards a huge beam of light sparked from the tesseract, aimed straight at a blank wall just in front of her.  The scientists, herself, and Fury hit the deck, Natasha’s hand immediately moving to her gun as she took position on her stomach, training the weapon on the point where the energy blast met the wall.  Just as soon as it had happened it was over, the left over energy shifting towards one of the antechambers just to the left of the cube.  Now that most of its energy had left it, the cube dimmed severely, allowing all eyes to be trained to the man that was rising from the steam left in the tesseracts wake.  His black hair was long, hitting his shoulders, and his skin was pale and gaunt as he raised himself up to his considerable height, Nat could tell even from where she was.  Fury barked for the man to put down the spear he was holding, but rather than comply he seemed to charge it and fire it towards the Director.  Nat pulled him down by the ankle so he fell on his hands rather than getting blasted backwards, a fate that didn’t spare the guard that had been behind him.  She wasn’t the only one to shoot at the figure, and watched from her place on the ground as he leapt towards the other guards, throwing knives with deadly accuracy, before teleporting over to her and standing above her.  Blue eyes met fierce, brighter green and she felt her breath leave her body, an action that had nothing to do with the weight suddenly pressed on her chest as his boot kept her pressed down to the ground. Recognition filtered in not moments later.  

He made the mistake of leaving her able to attack, and she twisted one of her legs up and around his to pull him down and off of her, the spear clattering to the ground in his moment of disbelief, garnering her just enough time to pin him with a gun pressed to his temple.  

“Natasha.”  He breathed the word and it sent goosebumps down her spine.  It was the last thing she remembered before he ripped his arm free of her hold and hit her hard against the head, leaving her to slump against him, limp, and knocked out.  

 


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha didn’t recognize the room she’d been put in when she finally came to, and though she was alone she stayed still for some time, eyes searching through the room.  It was quiet, though there was the faint noise of activity just outside.  Work, it sounded like, voice thrumming in the far-off distance.  Even with her enhanced hearing she couldn’t make out the words, so the walls around her must’ve been thick.  She didn’t recognize the material they were made from as well, leaving her completely in the dark as to where to begin at guessing her location.  The bed she’d been laid on was flat, solid and not very comfortable according to her aching bones.  It was only then that her headache caught up with her, making her gasp and clasp her head in her hands.  God almighty that hurt.  The lights seemed to ripple as the pain washed over her, and only after she focused on her breathing, on the steady expanding and compressing of her lungs did her world right itself again.  

Just in time for it to be bolted upside down with a man’s voice from just behind her.  “I never thought I’d see you again.”

She nearly fell off her bed in shock as she turned around.  An older, taller, and much, much more disheveled Loki than she remembered sat in a chair just behind her bed, his gaze lifting to meet her eyes, lips slightly agape and one hand reaching out to her.  She longed to lean into it, to feel him as she had so many evenings in her dreams, but instead recoiled.  

No.  She had a mission, or rather a set of tasks.  Get out.  Get to Shield.  Get this mess of everything figured out.  

“Do you remember me?” He asked.  

“Of course I do,” she said finally, the words finding their way through her mouth even though she had no roadmap for speaking, no way of being sure what words were and weren’t right for the moment.  What did one say to the man she’d been almost convinced she’d somehow dreamed up?  “You’re Loki.  We met the night that I managed to get out of the Red Room, and you helped me escape.  You can do magic and you told me you weren’t from this world, and then you disappeared.  You left me.”  She couldn’t help the biting edge from creeping into her words, or the way her hands fisted at her sides as she bit down hard on her tongue to keep from yelling at him further.  

“I did not,” he was on the defensive immediately.  She’d been planning on it, sure that he was not nearly as cool and collected as he appeared.  He was all fire and passion hidden just behind the thinest veneer of ice.  He liked to pretend that he was unfeeling, she could see in the way he barely held himself back, but just a little more prodding and he’d show himself.  

“You certainly weren’t anywhere I could find you,” she told him, forcing her body to relax as though the memory pained her.  In a way it did; she always wondered why he’d gone, why he’d decided to leave her on her own after transporting her to England.  Not that she had much room to complain, if only because she met Peggy there.  She owed the woman her life.  “And you’re not back here for me.  You wouldn’t have seemed so surprised when you saw me working for SHIELD if you had been, though you knew my employers from the last time you visted and said nothing to me.”

She watched as his emotions made a playground of his features, his brow going from furrowed to apologetic, lips pursing and relaxing in the same fashion, while he took slow, deep breaths to keep himself calm.  ‘Just a little more,’ she thought, standing up to walk towards him.  “You left me, Loki.  You promised you’d take care of me and you left--.”

His lips crashed against hers, cutting off the rest of her accusation as he pressed himself hard to her, crowding her back until the back of her knees hit the table she’d been laying on before.  There was the fire she’d seen, warming her bones and melting her resolve to get out, making her victim to her own passion and desire.  She pulled away only when she had to breathe, and it didn’t seem to be enough for Loki.  He growled and kissed his way down her throat, nipping at the soft skin just over her jugular so she gasped and the skin burned and turned hot beneath his touch.  

“I never meant to.”  His chest rumbled with the words, the vibrations making her shiver as he glanced up at her from where he’d been kissing down her throat, stopping only when his lips hit the skin connecting her throat and shoulder.  There he bit hard, just hard enough to leave indentations and bring a shout from her lips.  “It wasn’t my fault, and I never, for one second, forgot about you.”

“Why’d you leave me, then?” She demanded, head tipped back and mouth falling open, finding it easier to play him like this anyway.  If he thought she surrendered to her passions then he’d find her weak, he’d think she’d stay.  He wouldn’t have been half wrong if he’d found her years ago, maybe, but now?  She owed SHIELD everything now, owed it to Peggy to see this through.  This was not the Loki she’d known; age had turned him into a stranger, volatile, and crafty.  He picked up on her hesitance and yanked himself away from her, lips swollen from where he’d kissed her.  She was sure her own were as well.

“Odin forbid me from seeking you out after he brought me back to Asgard, he said that he’d taken care of you to make sure that you were safe but I was never to interfere in your life again.  He suppressed my powers from traveling to Midgard, until he fell into the Odinsleep.  After that I snuck onto Earth but by the time I caught sight of you--.”

“You’d gone to see Thor.”

“Yes.”

“So you didn’t come back for me,” she said, playing up that he’d hurt her that way more than anything else.  She pulled away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.  He fell for it, his eyes widening by the smallest fractions.  

“That wasn’t what I’d said at all,” he countered, stepping back towards her, not daring to tear his gaze from hers as he tried to continue.  Natasha cut him off, not daring to let him get a word in otherwise.

“Then why are you here?”  She snarled, pushing past him as though she couldn’t get far enough away from him.  The firmness of his body made her stomach flop, though, a reminder that she wasn’t hallucinating.  That he was real.  She fought hard against the indecision of her mind, glad he wasn’t looking at her face.  

“I came . . . I came to retrieve the Tesseract.”

“And you have it,” she spat, looking over her shoulder at him to glare.  “Thanks for killing the agents that I worked with, as well.  Many of them were my friends.”

“They were no way as talented as you were or else they would have survived.  I simply rid the world of dead weight.”  His voice was cold, unfamiliar.  She barely suppressed a shudder.  Where the hell had that come from?

“Not like I was exactly talented when you first rescued me,” she countered, lowering her voice to a murmur before he grabbed her shoulder.  Hard.  She’d have bruises in an hour.  

“You were talented enough to run away.”

“I was stupid enough--just as I was idiotic, it seems, to have trusted you.  Now let me go; we’re done here.”

She knew he wouldn’t be content with that, not after he’d waxed poetic about how he’s waited to be able to find her, but what she hadn’t anticipated was the slow smile that crept over his lips when she’d checked over her shoulder, uncomfortable in his silence.  “No we’re not, Natasha.  I have much to show you.  Come with me.”  It wasn’t a request, and as he made to leave the room Nat felt her legs being tugged, as though attached at the ankles and knees to wherever he was going.  Before she could be tripped up by it, however, she followed, resolving to share everything with Fury if she had to.  He was only ensuring his own failure.  

 

The pool of water was still for a moment, Nat looking from its clear surface to Loki, one eyebrow raised as though to say “This was what you brought me out here for?”  He really thought that a pool of water he’d conjured would be enough to impress her?  She’d seen him teleport between countries and--what the hell was that?  Movement caught the corner of her eye as she turned sharply to look at the once reflective surface, now turned deepest blue and black, small hints of bright, Tesseract blue poking at the seams of the dark. A large _something_ passed the pool and nearly made her jump, especially as she got a sight of what was on its back and sides. Thin, almost skeletal creatures with reflective armor and bony fingers clung to the monster's fins and jagged edges, riding it as comfortably as one might ride a horse.

"What the hell is that?" She demanded, pure shock radiating through her body and weakening her strength. She watched it sail through the inky sky behind it with ease, gliding silently. Or perhaps there was no sound able to be filtered through . . . Whatever it was they were using to spy this.

"That is a leviathan. It will help me win your planet for my own, and you need never fear it."

"As long as I come with you." She completed his thought. There was a quiet, confirming chuckle from beside her. His hand met her shoulder and massaged it gently, loosening her muscles but doing nothing against the fear that stuck in the pit of her stomach. He was crazy.

"You'll destroy the earth with those things. There won't be anything left to rule."

"Then I'll make anew."

It wasn't that simple. She turned to glare at him, mouth opened to counter that. He didn't let her.  His hand had tipped her chin back to show her the rest of his army, the Chitauri he called them.  He explained to her that they were gifted to him in exchange for the Tesseract, and she was silent as she contemplated it.  If he was to give over the tesseract wouldn’t that make whoever wanted it more powerful?  That was stupid of him, and judging by the way he kept looking at her from the corners of his eyes he was waiting for a response, a reaction.  Something.  But she couldn’t give him what he wanted.  The recognition he yearned for, the approval--he was going to kill himself trying to win over the world.  

“You’ll never be able to do it.  The Avengers are too strong,” she murmured.  “And you’ve given me everything I need to know about them.” Except how to kill them, she supposed.  Oh well.  She could improvise.  “We’ll beat you.”

He was quiet, so much so that it took her off guard and forced her to look over.  For the first time he looked drawn, exhausted, the circles under his eyes darkening and his face looking more gaunt than ever.  

“If you do that I’ll die.  They’ll come after me to take it out for failing them.  Would you put me through that?” He asked, turning to face her.  She’d dreamed about those eyes far too many nights to be comfortable seeing them so raw, so weak.  Vulnerable.  Just as she’d been when he’d saved her.  

A lump rose in her throat and she tore her eyes away from him.  "I can't help you. I have a team now."

"A team that you don't need. Help me win this war and you'll be a queen. My queen." He murmured, tipping her chin back up so she had to look at him. "Natasha." He breathed her name. "Please." He was moving closer now, his lips nearly on hers when she finally pulled away.

"Your father can help you deal with those who are trying to kill you if you tell him." She countered, mind whirling. There was no possible way she could get away with this. She owed it to Peggy, to everyone who'd given her a chance.

But wouldn't it be more beneficial to take the winning side?

“You’re asking me to betray the team that I’ve given my life to be on, the people I’ve been working with to cope with you leaving me and the skill set that I’d been forced to learn from the Red Room.  You want me to just throw that all away?” She asked, her eyes hard and unyielding, though inside her stomach churned.  Could she do it if she had to?

“Wouldn’t it be better, for them and for you, to preserve their safety by isolating and detaining each and every one of them, rather than forcing them to fight against me and lose?”

“You don’t know they’ll lose.”

“But are you willing to take the chance?  You’ve already disassociated yourself from them.”  

The air left her lungs in a soft gasp, realization slamming into her harder than any fist could ever hope to.  For half a second the room seemed to spin, vertigo making her close her eyes as she forced herself to breathe deep through her nose, trying to ground herself in the now.  In what was happening, where she was.  The hand sliding across to hold the back of her head and tip it upwards so a feather-soft kiss could be pressed to her lips wasn’t helping any.  

“Be my queen Natasha.  Save your friends and rule beside me.  You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and I’m in a position to give you that and more.  Please.”  

There it was again, the word she didn’t often hear out of the job.  She never got anything near it from Fury, Clint, or even Phil, unless he knew she was in a foul mood.  No one ever asked for her help; they’d demanded it.  Expected her compliance because she knew what was going to follow if she didn’t.  Her resolve cracked as he drew his other hand around her waist, holding her closer, forcing her to remember that he was real, strong, and in front of her.  She parted her lips at his request and felt her knees buckle a little as he deepened the kiss.  She’d never felt so weak, and yet when she responded and felt him moan and shudder beneath her a new feeling of power surged within her.  What the hell was he doing to her?

_I’m sorry, Peggy._

 

“Agent Romanov, where the hell have you been?”  

The whole team had been assembled in the short time it had taken Natasha to get back to the Helicarrier, having put in a call to Coulson’s private number when she’d finally gotten away.  She was scratched up, nursing a bruise over her right eye, and smiling faintly when Fury saw her.  No ‘How’ve you been’ or ‘Oh my God what happened to your face?’  No, their relationship wasn’t that caring.  The others, the faces the recognized--Steve, fresh from the ice and looking just as handsome as he had in the pictures Peggy kept near her heart every day, Tony, who she’d seen grown up while she worked with Howard from time to time, Bruce, who she hadn’t met, Clint, and Thor, who’d she’d only ever heard about from his brother.  It was the latter whose eyes stuck on her the most, his own widening in horror.  

“My brother is the one who did this to you?”

“You should see the other guy,” Natasha said, dry wit making even Tony crack the smallest of smiles, though he still looked concerned.  “I’m fine.  Just healing.  Carry on, please.”  She said, hiding the slight limp of her left leg as she moved to take a seat on the opposite side, surrounded by empty chairs.  She liked it that way.  Fury’s good eye didn’t look ready to give her up just yet, but he left it at that.  He’d get her story eventually.

“I take it you don’t know where he hid you?”

“Not a clue.  By the time I came to he likely transported me hundreds of miles away, near Kansas City where you picked me up.”

“Right.”  He sighed heavily and fell silent for the quickest of minutes.  “We were just getting the run down from Thor about the army and cube that Loki seems to be after, and why.  Any intel?”

“Nothing.  I refused to tell him what he wanted, he played the same hard game.  The man’s good, I’ll give him that,” she admitted, sounding more angry than anything else.  No one ever got the best of her when it came to lying and deciet, but she had to hand it to him; he did a damn good job.  She looked over at Thor, whose gaze still oozed concern, and shot him the quickest smile.  “So, you’re both the real deal, huh?”

A pause.  “You know this to be a fact already.  You’ve met my brother.”

“I thought I hallucinated him all those years ago.  A child alone, trying to get away from a desperate situation.  You can understand why I imagined my thoughts had run away with me.  That he actually exists is a lot more . . . complicated.  Besides, he’s not exactly the child I remember.”

Thor opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, to agree or disagree Nat couldn’t be sure as he thought better of it and shut his mouth.  Good.  If Loki was to be believed then it was their father’s fault he’d turned down this path.  

“Anything else you can tell us, Agent Romanov?” Fury asked, pulling the conversation back.  Nat shook her head.  

“No, he didn’t tell me anything, kept me in a dark room isolated from whatever else he was doing.  Soundproofed it.”  She winced a little.  “He preferred to focus on trying to get information himself.  Asked a lot about the team.  What we were, what we could do.  I didn’t give him anything, but he knows Thor and I already.”

“We’ll be sure to keep him surprised, then.”  

 A sudden shock jolted them all out of their seats, the carrier suddenly dipping severely to the left.  Over the com systems it was announced that one of the engines had been damaged, the shot having come from a rogue jet.  

“Unless he gets us first,” Nat muttered to herself as Tony struggled to scramble out of the room, followed quickly by Steve and Thor, each going to try and fix the engine.  Clint and Phil moved to the engine room, trying to assist from the inside, while beside Natasha Bruce was groaning and putting his hands over his head.  Her heart sped up.  If she was going to do this she had to do it now.  Fury had crashed against one of  the other walls, and had started pulling himself back up when he heard the click of a gun’s safety being taken off.  He turned just in time to see the barrel aimed at his head.  He growled.  

“Once a double agent, always a double agent. I should’ve never listened to Peggy--.”

The shot rang out, hitting him straight in between the eyes and exiting through the back of his head, splattering blood on the wall.  Nat bit down hard on her tongue, forcing herself to breathe.  No going back now.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

The shot rang through Natasha's head and the room, making her adrenaline spike as she stared at what she'd just done. What had she just done? She tried not to cringe as his body flopped to the side, moving with the shifting of the carrier, not that she could focus on it for too long. On the other side of the room Bruce was still mid-transformation, and she didn't think he'd seen anything, or had been able to pull himself out of his head in time to watch the bullet make its way through Fury's skull. The sound of the shot, however, had made an impact. His muscles began to roll beneath the skin, bones stretching and ligaments moving, trying to accommodate the Other Guy, the one that Nat had hoped to avoid all together. She had all of two seconds to grab at her utility belt where Loki, at Natasha's request, had given her a few tranquilizer darts, one of which would've put Thor out. She flicked three at the giant man in front of her, praying they worked as he paused, halfway through his transformation to stare at her.

"What are you doing?" Bruce demanded, his voice two octaves at the same time, eyes flashing somewhere between their traditional dark brown and bright, fluorescent green. Her heart stuttered at the fear one of his mighty shouts brought with it, but it only forced her to react and throw the remaining three darts at him. They hit his neck, piercing the green-tinted skin. He went down not long after that, body shrinking until he was Bruce again.

She felt her heart rate slow down slightly, taking a deep breath before forcing herself to get up to her feet.  She’d deal with Bruce later.  Overhead, the coms were screaming that the carrier had been breached, that infiltrators dressed up as SHIELD agents were making their way through before the speakers went dead.  Infiltrators dressed in the gear that Natasha had given them. She pushed aside the doubt from her conscious as one of said minions of Loki’s stepped into the room, checking that the others were out, before Natasha shot him in the chest.  As he fell, she stepped forward quickly and put her gun into his hand, the one she’d shot Fury with.  Call her paranoid, but she’d rather not take her chances.  When Loki had hit the engine he’d been sure to send a pulse using other Shield technology to take out the cameras, so the rounded glass-covered hub didn’t worry her at all.  In fact, she smiled to look at it.  She would never be stared at, scrutinized, or spied on again.  Not like that.  

With quick feet she made her way from the room down the hall, the carrier leveling out as she ran.  Loki must’ve gotten on and stabilized it, wanting simply to throw everyone off kilter while they boarded.  As she walked her way through the halls she thought she caught a glimpse of him, heading towards the Hulk’s containment cell, the quick flash of a leather jacket all she got before she turned and walked down the opposite way.  She wished she’d had the foresight to put a com in her ear before the attack, then she’d have been able to pinpoint Barton and the others’ exact location, but she went with her gut instead.  

Barton was, as she’d expected, on his way towards Loki, and he spotted her at the edge of one of the halls, limping on her left foot.  The archer immediately stopped and ran towards her.  

“Nat, what the hell happened?”

“Bruce--he got me right before he could contain it,” she gasped, sweat beading on her brow as she stared up at him, eyes searching his.  Good, his face was riddled with concern, and as he bent down to look at her leg she took one of her bites and pressed it hard into his neck.  His body tensed, jolted, then fell to the ground with a dull thud, eyes fluttering back into his head.  

Two down, three to go.  

As it turned out Loki managed to take care of Rogers without issue once the soldier was separated from Stark, and the iron man was last to go after Rogers and Thor both dropped down to the ground, knocked out cold with a spell of Loki’s.  Tony watched as Nat grew closer and tried waving her away, telling her to get to the others, that he’d take care of “this bastard.”  He didn’t seem so adamant when she pulled out another one of her guns and trained it on Stark instead, his eyes narrowing and mouth setting into a hard line.

“What’re you doing, Natasha?  I thought you were a good guy?” He demanded, pointing one repulsor at her, the other at Loki, who’d begun to circle him.  Nat tried not to watch the way that Loki’s lips twisted into an almost pleased smirk, tried to ignore the way her nerves made mincemeat of her gut, but neither of the men were making it easy on her.  Loki stepped around so he stopped beside her, though she shrugged his hand off after he’d put it on her shoulder.  

“There’s no definitive good and bad, Tony.  You know that as well as I do,” she murmured, taking a step away from Loki and ignoring the way his body tensed up at her absence.  “I’m doing what I have to survive.”  And to keep you all alive.  She didn’t give Loki to option to stop Stark, throwing one of her bites at him so that it hit his suit.  The electric pulse was set up as high as she could put it, shorting out his abilities to run Jarvis and run the suit.  She watched it power down, heard Tony shout as the suit started to take preventative measures and once Loki began to heat it up, well, it was only a matter of minutes before Tony was forced out of the suit.  Nat got him with a couple of fingers jabbing into his pressure point, and caught him when he went down, not before a few colorful words passed his lips, though.  She ignored them.  Tried, at least.  Somewhere in her heart they stuck, but they’d see.  They’d have to see that she was doing what was best.  At least she hoped she was.  Her glance slipped over to Loki, the demigod smiling at her and offering to take the collapsed scientist from her . She didn’t give him over, slinging the man over her back as though he didn’t weigh a thing.  She owed him at least the decency of seeing to it that he was taken care of.  

Back in Manhattan, the tesseract was nearly in position.  This distraction, the capture and defeat of the Avengers, was the last roadblock.  Loki gave the word once they’d taken over the hellicarrier, Hill’s eyes glowing bright blue as she barked orders to a team of mind-controlled Agents as well.  The portal opened, using Stark Tower as its base, and Natasha and Loki watched from the deck as the Chitauri invaded, destroying a good portion of the city.  In a matter of twenty-four hours the entire world fell to their knees.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay--so, hear me out before you absolutely hate me for ending it here. I do have plans to continue this, yes. When I'll do it however I can't say. I've got a thousand and one other fics to finish up, on top of school, and a full time [new] job, so I've been running with this one as long as I can, and I just hit a really good stopping point right here. When I do go on to continue this it'll be under a different name, and be seen as a second part to this whole story, but as I said for right now, while I have such a good ending point, I'm gonna take it. You guys have all been absolutely amazing and so supportive and I love it and appreciate it to death. Thank you guys so so so so much, and I hope to be able to figure EVERYTHING else out in life so I can continue this ASAP <3


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